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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27456115">you say we’re small (and not worth the mention)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/far2late/pseuds/far2late'>far2late</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Betrayal, Consequences, Crying, Dave | Technoblade and Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Insane Wilbur Soot, Insanity, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Morally Grey Characters, Other, Paranoia, Sad Wilbur Soot, Villain Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot Needs a Hug, Wilbur Soot-centric, but not really, like a man, of war, some beta i will cautiously die</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:00:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,375</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27456115</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/far2late/pseuds/far2late</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Despite what his allies- brothers? roommates?- might think, he was well aware of his place in the story they had spun from the ground up, maybe the most aware he had been in a long, long time. There were no delusions of grandeur where he would save his friends and come swooping in as though he were a saviour painted in white and gold. There were no wings and halos that would appear as the red from his ledger would disappear and his sins would be revoked.” </p><p>or </p><p>everything hits wilbur all at once</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dave | Technoblade &amp; Wilbur Soot, Dave | Technoblade &amp; Wilbur Soot &amp; TommyInnit &amp; Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot &amp; TommyInnit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>202</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>you say we’re small (and not worth the mention)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The leaves of oak and birch trees that line the area of Pogtopia crunch under Wilbur’s feet quietly, the man slowly making his way through the throes of bare-branched trees that seemed duller than they had in a very long time. Whether it be of his view of life dimming, or simply the seasons themselves, they rang an ugly brown over the rotting dirt and logs that were littered beneath his feet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A swirl of smoke drifted upwards from Wilbur’s lips, the trail stuttering as he coughed for a moment amid his drag. It probably wasn’t the best for him to be smoking with weak lungs as they were, but the way his head cleared with the knowledge that his lungs were black as his mind and heart was something that he couldn’t let go of.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Despite what his allies- brothers? roommates?- might think, he was well aware of his place in the story they had spun from the ground up, maybe the most aware he had been in a long, long time. There were no delusions of grandeur where he would save his friends and come swooping in as though he were a saviour painted in white and gold. There were no wings and halos that would appear as the red from his ledger would disappear and his sins would be revoked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No, he was well aware there was no coming back from this. There was nowhere to go, the inevitable was only going to come with or without their intervention. Tom- The blond was simply stuck in the past, unable to let go of things that he knew wouldn’t last. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The walls of L’manberg had always seemed so permanent before, but now he knew they were nothing but materialistic, built up of false hopes and children’s fairy tales that he knew that it was all doomed to go down in the first place. Eret had the right idea, Wilbur had realized. It was never meant to be, the entire country doomed the moment an inkling of independence snuck into Wilbur’s mind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wilbur scowled quietly, dropping the cigarette he held and letting it smoulder within the dead leaves before stomping it out, crushing the butt under his boot. They were black, laced up and covered in dirt and stains of blood. It should have been concerning that he didn’t know whose blood it was, but he couldn’t give himself the energy to care. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was little energy that Wilbur had left in him, far too little for someone in the situation he was in. He should have been brimming with energy, adrenaline, excitement at the prospect that he would end up blowing his ruined project to the sky, but there was little joy behind the action. It was just the closing act to a bad play, something that would only provide the end he was searching for. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everyone had left him in the end, it was the perfect time to close the story. Tommy, who was convinced he was senile, holding him at gunpoint with a crossbow. Tubbo, weathered eyes in a sixteen-year-old who shouldn’t have them, turning his back on him after taking Tommy’s side. Techno, bending to Schlatt’s will and taking out one of their own, who had only survived through an emergency response that shouldn’t have been necessary. Niki, kind and sweet in his eyes but whispering about his insanity behind closed doors, to Tommy and Tubbo. Quackity, putting in the effort to separate himself from Schlatt but continuing to let him stay in power, refusing to let Wilbur blow the country to kingdom come. His son, a spy in the end, but still burning down his flag, taking down his walls, renouncing his familial relationship with him. Eret, hiding in his castle as he had been since Dream let them declare their independence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was so alone. He was so </span>
  <em>
    <span>cold. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wilbur shook his head, muttering to himself to shut up as he hit the heel of his palm against the side of his head gently. His hand thunked against his beanie, hitting a bit of his ear as well. The feeling was comforting, and Wilbur got caught up in repeating it as he stood by himself amid the crowded forest, the sun slowly setting. The trees were painted orange and purple and blue with light that had slowly turned blacker. His eyes slid shut as he let himself crouch, repeatedly hitting his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His actions were only interrupted by a hand, gently pulling his hand away from his head with calloused palms. Wilbur looked up with tired eyes, a half-hearted glare set in his eyes as he looked up to who had interrupted him. He was greeted with Tommy’s blue eyes, worry flooding them. Wilbur almost snorted at the expression, if he wasn’t so tired. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His gaze moved slowly to Tommy, who had said something he hadn’t quite caught. It sounded angry, maybe. The tone was sharp and cutting, and even if Wilbur hadn’t figured out what it was, it still tugged at his heart with a dull stab. He was used to it at this point, so he had little complaints to make. His hand was still held gently, cradled in both of Tommy’s as he felt it tremble. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t deserve this. Tommy was nothing but a traitor in hiding, wolf in sheep’s clothing. Dream had told them of a traitor within their midst, how was he sure it wasn’t Tommy, ready to take Manberg as his own and throw him in prison the moment he found himself within proximity of his own throne? If anything, he might keep Wilbur alive out of some sick sense of twisted pleasure, to taunt him with death he wouldn’t be granted. Tommy couldn’t be trusted. His thoughts went back to the times of L’manberg where he was happy as his right-hand man, a smile adorning his face at every moment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That smile was gone now. Wilbur’s heart clenched.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knotted his fingers back into his hair, the heel of his palm returning to its rhythmic movements as the other hand sifted through the forest floor, leaves and dirt crunching under his palms as he squeezed and unsqueezed the handful of dirt he held. He felt Tommy pull his hand again, with more vigour this time, and the man swatted him away, annoyance coming and going in a small wave of feeling. It was short, fleeting, and gone in a moment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Leave me be, Tommy,” He mumbled, voice holding none of the showmanship it usually had in the midst of the younger. He saw the blond move back a little after hearing the man speak, sharp tone falling away as he heard the man’s weak voice. “It helps. Gives me consistency.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The blond stopped, stepping back a little. He was hesitant before he spoke up quietly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are… Are you alright, Wilbur?” Tommy asked, voice unsure compared to his sharp tone from earlier. Wilbur laughed a little, though it held little venom in it compared to before. He stopped in his repetitive thumping, pursing his lips as his manic eyes stared into nothing as they teared up out of nowhere. There was a wave of emotion threatening to slosh out of his chest, flooding his respiratory system with blackened sludge and bitterness and sadness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Am I alright?” He asked, repeating the question as he blinked rapidly. “Am I…” His eyes started burning, nose slowly growing runny as he sniffled. Wilbur pressed his eyes shut, tears slowly leaking from his eyes as he forced back a keening noise from the back of his throat. He was… When was the last time someone asked him that? When was the last time </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tommy </span>
  </em>
  <span>asked him that? He wasn’t… He was alright. Wilbur lost- He didn’t care. He didn’t want to care. His worries were none and his life was worth nothing, there was no need for him to live. No need to care, or remember anything. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had no one. He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>no one. </span>
  </em>
  <span>There was nothing left for him. Wilbur had lost everything, he had… He lost </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His eyes were stinging and his world was crashing down around him, but it didn’t register as one hand started clawing at his chest, dropping to his knees. Tommy’s hands on his back didn’t register, nor did his hands scrabbling to turn him over when he had slumped over. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His eyes stared into nothing, gasping breaths and screams escaping him as he shook from exertion. Everything was settling in at once, coating his bones with black liquor and shaking him to the core as he turned over, curling into the ground with his forehead pressed against the ground, shaking and crying and gagging as he choked through saliva and tears that dripped into his mouth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>People had always described crying as something pretty, or something that would always result in instant comfort. Always speaking of crystal tears and partners who would whisper sweet nothings that would immediately solve their insecurities and leave them with glowing smiles upon their faces. Reality was nothing like that, Wilbur was realizing. His eyes stung, his cheeks burned, face red and saliva dripping down his chin. His throat was sore and his voice was cracking, dying off and leaving his chest heaving with intensity that he didn’t know was possible. Nothing anyone could say would help at this point, though he wished there was a fix-all that would just… let him rest. For </span>
  <em>
    <span>once</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t stopped screaming into the ground, face shoved into the dirt as his voice grew sore and crackly. Wilbur could taste dirt, little bits of soil lodging themselves between his teeth as he tore at the ground with one of his hands, voice rattling away into nothing as he continued to scream soundlessly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy’s hands had long since fallen away. Wilbur wasn’t even sure if the teen was there anymore, gone with the wind and withered away into nothing. Was he gone too, now? Left him like all the others who had seen him as nothing but a problem, nothing but a senile man who needed to be put down. He felt another sob rip its way out of his throat, mucus splattering into the ground in an ugly stain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Almost as if it were a cue, a heavy cloth fell over his shoulders, a hand resting on his shoulder. Wilbur shook his head, weak whines leaving his mouth as he slumped to his side, completely exhausted. His hands shook unendingly, leaving him with vertigo as his head spun in unison. A pair of hands lifted him up slowly as he continued gasping for breath. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright, Wil. It’s okay, just breathe, it’s okay,” Techno’s deep voice cut into Wilbur’s haze of thoughts, but it sounded as though he was far away, underwater and blurry as his voice served as a blip on his radar. Wilbur shook his head endlessly, tears slipping down his cheeks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not okay, it’s not- it’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>okay-</span>
  </em>
  <span>“ His voice broke at the last word, making the gravely noise that his throat gave out sounding even more broken and fucked up. Wilbur shook his head, feeling impossibly like a child as he clutched the red cape around his shoulders incredibly tightly, fists going white with the pressure he has on the cloth. He felt the urge to bite through it for a moment, breaking it between his teeth and letting the threads unravel. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Techno’s hands were sturdy on his shoulders, but Wilbur had never felt farther away in that moment. “Nothing’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>okay,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Wilbur spat the last word, the venom that was meant to coat the words barely coming through in his voice. Techno rubbed his back gently, crouching down in front of him to reach for his hands through the cape, the older man barely putting up a fight. He was just so tired. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m tired, Techno. I’m tired, everything hurts, I just want- Want to go fu… fucking home. Please,” His voice shook as he spoke, swallowing back tears as he fought to stop himself from sobbing once more. His throat felt torn apart already, and Techno holding his cold hands so gently was almost enough to break him again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I want to go home, but nowhere is home anymore,” Wilbur repeated in a whisper, feeling like a child. Techno nodded quietly, pulling his head close and letting it rest on his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around Wilbur in his cape. Wilbur sniffled once, hands clenching into the fabric of Techno’s clothes as if to stop him from leaving. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ll get Phil, yeah?” The name stopped him short in his slow-starting calm, immediately pushing away from Techno. He shook his head, pulling at the cape as he collapsed in a heap on his thighs, head still shaking from side to side. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, no no no no, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he hates me, he’ll hate me, he can’t- He’s not proud of me, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>he isn’t, he’ll- he’ll just </span>
  <em>
    <span>leave-“ </span>
  </em>
  <span>Techno tried to calm him, interjecting before getting drowned out by Wilbur’s voice once more. He fought to yank his hands back from Techno, who held them firmly to stop him from hitting himself again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Would you just- Fucking let me-!” Wilbur shouted, arms shaking with exertion as he flung his arms out, shaking his head rapidly. Techno paid no mind, leaning forward to wrap his arms around his shoulders tightly once more, holding him in place as his limbs jerked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright, Wilbur. Just sleep,” Techno murmured, rubbing his back gently until he had finally collapsed into his arms with no resistance, fully exhausted after the brunt of his breakdown had finally passed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m so </span>
  <em>
    <span>cold</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Techno. I’m so, so cold,” He whispered, voice raw and broken. Techno hummed sadly, nodding once as Wilbur clung to him, fists clenching around the front of his royal attire. It stained it brown and red and slight bits of green from grass, but the man couldn’t bring himself to care. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know, Wil,” Techno said, one hand stroking the back of his head. “It’ll be alright.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The night was silent around them, letting the brothers mourn in the wake of realizations that shouldn’t have rattled them as much as they did. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i am planning a few follow up chapters of the others helping him thru this, and im hoping to hit above 10k words on this fic, but i rlly just wanted to highlight wilburs mental state instead of painting him as a villain since i dont think people talk abt it all the much? thats just what i think, so enjoy this 2k word dump i made while ignoring my science assignment lol :-) </p><p>feel free to leave comments, i read them all and appreciate them as well!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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